


White is the color of pain

by AWRA



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hallucinations, Sick Character, Sleep Deprivation, Spoilers, Starvation, but i'm not sure there is a term for the state al's body was in, perhaps sick is not the best term, when al got it back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWRA/pseuds/AWRA
Summary: When Al sacrifices himself, Ed does not immediately find the way to get him back. Al is left in front of his Gate, alone, with a body that is falling apart, and nothing to do, for who knows how long. It's not fun





	White is the color of pain

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for tumblr user nyxelestia for the fmasecretsanta2018. I hope you will enjoy some Al angst!

" _Do you think he will come back to get you?"_

Al smiled. It was an alien feeling, to have facial muscles and make them move. "He will. I know he will." Speaking was strange as well. As if he was controlling something that was not truly a part of him.

Truth grinned at him as they held up Ed's arm, decomposing in front of them. The grin gave Al a certain feeling of  _ déjà _ - _ vu _ , like Al had seen it many times before. His body probably had.

_"I'm curious to see what he will sacrifice to do it,"_ they said, and disappeared.

Al closed his eyes. Now all he had to do was wait for Ed to come for him. First he would have to defeat Father, which Al had no doubt he would do. The homunculus had been severely weakened already, it was only a matter of time. And as for getting Al back...

He would find a way. He was Ed, nothing could stop him once he put his mind to something. And now there was dad with him, dad surely would know something  useful. Perhaps they'd need a few days, but they would figure it out.

In the meantime, Al could familiarize himself with his body. He looked down at his hands, opening and closing them. This body was  _right_ , if maybe not in the best conditions. It wasn't too big, it could not be taken apart, there were no metallic noises as he moved or transmutation marks from all the time he had had to repair himself.

Yet, Al was still feeling a certain disconnect between himself and his body. He had not slept in five years, but he was reminded of that time when one is not really awake yet, when they still need to become aware of themselves.  Al had to settle in, get used to being flesh and blood again.

As a matter of fact, he was already starting to notice strange sensations here and there. For example, there was something going on in his mouth. It was some kind of itch that prickled the back of his throat and made his tongue stick to his palate. It was familiar, yet Al couldn't quite put his finger on it.

It wasn't pleasant. It was rather annoying, actually. But it was feeling, nothing like anything Al had experienced in years, and it filled Al with giddiness. He thought if someone electrocuted him there and then, he would still be happy, just because he was finally able to feel it.

A smile stretched his lips. It was accompanied by tiny pinpricks of something unpleasant. Was it pain? Strange, lips didn't hurt when one smiled. Al tried to move his mouth to test it out, and sure enough some kind of tugging as he did so.

He racked his mind, trying to remember why would lips feel like this. It was strange, and yet it didn't feel completely unknown either. If he only could remember...

Dry lips!

When it was winter in Resenbool, and a freezing wind blew, and he and Ed and Winry spent all day playing outside and their lips would end up dried of all moisture until the skin cracked and Pinako had to give them a balm, that was what it felt like. Al had nearly forgotten about it. He wondered how many other little things of being human he would have to relearn.

He couldn't wait.

Obviously there was no wind blowing in this place, then it meant Al didn't have enough liquids in his body. It was unsurprising,  he doubted he had had anything to drink  while he was here . He had to be pretty dehydrated by now.

Going by that, he could reasonably guess that the unpleasant feeling in his mouth and throat was thirst.

And just as he realized that, the sensation seemed to increase tenfold. The understanding apparently unlocked his brain's ability to fully perceive it. The itching became a burning, his mouth painfully dry, his tongue too big for the space it was in.

Al swallowed, an instinctual action at the sudden thirst. The movement hurt, and brought him no relief, not when he barely had any saliva to wet his throat.

The happiness he had felt at being in his body again dropped. He had forgotten how bad it was to feel thirsty, and he had never been so desperately in need of water before. It was a horrible sensation.

A sudden cramp to his midsection made him bend over. His eyes widened at the pain. There were no wounds or other damages that could explain it, then what-

Hunger. If he was dehydrated, logically he also had to be starving.

He sighed, and straightened his back. He had to bear this. His brother had suffered so much in the past few years, Al reminded himself, and he had felt no pain at all. If Ed could  go through automail surgery then Al could deal with a little hunger and thirst for a while.

 

***

 

Al thought he was good with boredom. After so many nights spent awake alone, he had learnt how to deal with it. He could sit down and think about his day, or construct some new theory in his mind, or fantasize. He could do it for hours on end.

But as it turned out, having a body made things harder.

His mind kept being distracted by his stomach. The thirst had almost fallen into background after a while, but his hunger was tormenting him. He couldn't concentrate, and it only got worse as time went by.

And because he wasn't already suffering enough, the rest of his body had started aching too. His back protested having been kept in the same position for five years, and so did his knees. When Al had tried straightening his legs, his joints had popped loudly and his muscles almost seized up at the unexpected movement. His knees had stayed a little bent, refusing to move past a certain point, and Al hoped he wouldn't end up with his legs permanently damaged.

Being hungry, in pain, with nothing at all to do, was torture. When he thought he started seeing Ed's Gate in front of him tremble like water, Al decided he needed to find something to occupy himself with.

He could go exploring. Sure, there was an endless expanse of nothing at all in all directions around him, but maybe he could get a closer look at the Gates. He had noticed his and Ed's seemed to differ, and he wondered if there was a pattern. He needed to get near Ed's Gate, he couldn't make out the writings on it from where he was sitting.

He hoped the prolonged malnutrition had not damaged his eyesight.

Al thought up the sequence of motions required to stand up. He didn't want to end up hurting himself accidentally.

He put his hands down on the ground. If it could be called ground what he was sitting on. Even as an armor, Al had been able to feel pressure to a certain degree when he was touching something, but now there was nothing underneath him. Absolutely nothing, he didn't meet any sort of solid surface. And yet he wasn't falling, and even if he pressed down, his hands didn't go any lower.

Better not think too much about it. There probably wasn't an answer that made sense.

He carefully pushed himself up. He winced, his legs apparently working against him. He couldn't quite stand straight, his back bent due to the too weak muscles. His legs shook, no longer used to doing their job.

Al took a step forward. Then another.

And then his legs gave out.

Muscle memory made his raise his hands up as he fell, and he landed heavily on them, sending jolts of pain through his wrists.

_"Careful, else you'll destroy the body you just got back."_

Al looked up, and saw Truth. Great, now he had an audience.

"I can't hurt myself falling if the ground doesn't exist."

_"You can still tear what little you have left of your muscles."_

Al decided he was going to ignore them. He managed to get into a sitting position again, but when he tried to stand once more, he didn't even get halfway through with it before falling.

_"You sure are stubborn."_

"Thanks, it's a family trait."

Truth laughed.  _"Still think he will come back?"_

"Yes. He just needs a little time," Al said. He couldn't expect Ed to find an answer to a question they had been chasing for five years in the space five minutes, after all. "By the way, how long have I been here?"

Truth just grinned at him, not answering. Al frowned. He didn't think he had asked something outrageous, surely Truth could tell-

"Time doesn't work here like it does there, right?" Al asked. He grimaced as the itch in his throat increased.

_"Yep."_

Obviously. No real world rules applied to this place, why would time do. Now Al couldn't even be sure if he had been here a minute or a day. It was so frustrating.

He tried standing up again. He wasn't spending  _weeks_ here doing nothing at all.

And this time he made a mistake. He moved too fast, not giving his body time to adjust.  His vision swam in front of his eyes, black dots dancing on the disorienting white, but that was nothing compared to the flare of pain in his left leg.

He cried out, and that did nothing to make his throat feel better.

_"Told you so,"_ Truth said, as Al clutched his leg.

He had tore a muscle. Great, fantastic, just what he needed. After this, he was never again scolding Ed for getting himself hurt in stupid ways. He wanted to hit himself, he would have had, had he already not been in so much pain.

_"You shouldn't try it again."_

"I'll agree with you on this one."

 

***

 

Al was lying down. He couldn't take sitting anymore. Or rather, his back couldn't. There wasn't a position that completely took away all his pains, but at least like this he could give some abused muscles a rest.

Al felt he needed a rest too. His body felt as heavy as his armor was. He was exhausted. His forces were severely limited, and his clumsy attempts at going around had depleted them terribly.

And he was tired mentally, too. It was getting harder and harder to think. It wasn't just the hunger and pain monopolizing his thoughts, it was his brain refusing to work.

He should try to sleep. The conditions weren't ideal, but Al knew if one was tired enough then they could fall asleep anywhere. He had seen Ed passed out in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, soldiers on night duty taking naps while standing, surely Al could get some sleep like this.

And yet. Al closed his eyes, he tried to get himself comfortable, he turned to the other side, but nothing. He did not get any less awake than he was.

For a moment, he thought he had forgotten how to. But that was ridiculous, one does not have to learn how to sleep.

He squeezed his eyes tight, and tried to count sheep. He focused on the numbers, forcing all his aches to quiet down.

He reached thirty-seven when he heard a voice calling him. He opened his eyes, expecting it to be Ed, or Truth.

There was nobody there.

Al sighed, and closed his eyes again. Maybe he had been about to fall asleep, and that had been the beginning of a dream.

 

***

 

He should cut his nails once he left this place. They were terrible. Too long, brittle, covered in cracks. It was a little disgusting.

When sleep had failed him, Al had started to examine his body. It was all in horrible condition, but his nails were particularly bothering him. The thinness and pallor had been expected, but he had never thought about other tiny details.

He sort of wanted to cry. It was just nails, a stupid thing to cry about, he wasn't missing a limb, he could fix this easily.

But Al couldn't deal with it. When was Ed coming? Why wasn't here there yet? He hadn't forgotten Al, he couldn't have, he couldn't leave Ed here-

No. Ed was coming. Al couldn't doubt that. The thoughts were useless, they would just bring him down. Why would he even think something like that, it was ridiculous.

Not that Al wasn't familiar with ugly, distressing thoughts that crept on him when he least expected them. He had a lot of experience with them, he knew how to tune them out if needed.

But this place was starting to affect him. He had nothing to do to distract himself, it was the perfect situation for his thought to take an ugly turn.

He had to get out. Go back to the real world, where he could eat, and rest, and cut his hair and his nails. His nails... they were so ugly.

As he looked at them, he could see the cracks growing on them. Crawling all over the thin surface, fragmenting them. Surely they would fall into pieces, and- Would the cracks stop there, or would they spread on the rest of his body, on his skin, until he was falling apart-

Al shook his head. His nails were fine. Ugly, but fine. The cracks were not spreading, he had been imagining things.

Great. Just great.

Now Al really wanted to cry. But with how little liquids he had in him, he didn't think he could even shed tears.

 

***

 

It was official. Al was losing it.

He could swear he had seen something run buy. Some kind of indistinct shape, moving in the corner of his eye. He had turned to follow it, a question on his lips.

It was some kind of... animal? It was as big as a cat, but it didn't really look like one. It was bright red, without fur, just some kind of smooth skin. It was running in circles.

Al had tried to call it, but he had found he didn't remember how to make those clicking sounds with his tongue, and it hurt to even try. But the animal didn't react, it just kept moving in a strange way, unnatural somehow, although Al couldn't put his finger on why exactly.

Al had no idea why any animal would be there, in this place of nothingness. It didn't look like any animal Al knew, so maybe it could be some kind of native species. But what kind of thing could survive here, with no food or water?

The cat kept running in circles. It was such a strange thing to do. And it was starting to make Al dizzy.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.

When he opened them again, the cat was no longer there.

There were two options. Either the thing lived here, and if Truth could appear and disappear at will, that strange cat could as well. Or the animal had never been there in the first place.

What part of Al's logical brain could still work told him there was no way the animal had been real. But he wished it had been, he wished there was a way strange red cat creatures could live into this empty white, because otherwise...

Sleep deprivation. It had to be that. And stress, and his brain desperately trying to find something to engage it in this hell he was stuck in.

Al's mind had always been the only thing he had. Without a body, barely human, he had still had himself. If his brain failed him... he couldn't handle it. There was no temperature here, but Al felt like he was freezing.

He had to keep himself sane. Find something to do, anything. But he couldn't focus on anything, except the pain, and that was only driving him crazy faster.

His Gate loomed over him. Al had already read all the writings on it, had looked it so many times he could picture it perfectly in his mind.

What if the thing fell down. It would crash Al, for sure, make him just a splat of blood floating in the white-

No. No, no, no no no. Al couldn't lose himself in intrusive thoughts and hallucinations. He had to wait for Ed, he had to hold on a little more. Ed would come, Ed would save him, he would come.

And when Ed had saved him, Al did not want to be in an empty white room ever again, for his whole life.

 

***

 

There were three things now. Animals, maybe, but they seemed more like silhouettes now. Fast silhouettes, running in circles, strangely colored.

Al was... almost sure they weren't real. Almost. He had tried to make a list of reasons of why they wouldn't be real, but the only thing he could think of was that they had no food to eat. Thinking about food was not good, not helping, but it was nearly impossible to think of anything else.

The idea of food tormented him. He had even seen it, something that looked like Winry's apple pie, right there in front of him, so close he had only had to open his mouth and lean in and take a bite and _nothing._ Just air. And Al's stomach had sent pained spasms through his whole body.

Maybe soon he would be too tired to think of anything at all. It would be a relief.

His Gate was rocking back and forth, as if about to fall. Al didn't know it it was really doing that or not. Too hard to think about it. Maybe it was getting ruined because Al was getting weaker.

He had tried to pinch himself. Wasn't that something one did when they wanted to wake up from a dream? Not only the things hadn't stopped being there, but when Al had pinched his skin, it had not immediately snapped back into place, staying raised for a second or two before slowly smoothing down. Had he had anything in his stomach, he would have thrown up.

He closed his eyes. His eyelids were falling closed by themselves all the time. Like Al's body was begging him to sleep, they couldn't hold on like this any longer. But no matter what, Al could not sleep, could not get what he needed, could not reach a state where he wouldn't feel hunger or thirst or pain anymore.

_"You really are doing badly now."_

Al blinked his eyes open, rolling his head to the side. Truth. The only good thing about them was that Al could be reasonably sure  they were real . "Make it stop," Al croaked. His tongue was heavy,  sluggish, and his throat constricted.

_"Stop? Is anything happening?"_

Al turned again to stare straight upwards. Maybe Truth was just mocking him. Could Truth lie? Or since it was Truth, they could only say the truth?

Al's head hurt.

_"You don't have a lot more,"_ Truth said, as if talking about the weather.  _"Your body is already giving out. It's only a matter of time before you reach organ failure."_

"Will I die?" Al asked.

_"That's what generally happens when your organs stop working."_

That hadn't been what Al had wanted to hear. He had wanted... he didn't know what he had wanted. He had known logically he would have died here, he was a genius, he didn't need Truth to tell him. But he was  _scared_ . Somewhere, between all the pain, he found space for fear. 

He didn't want to die. He had just gotten his body back, he had managed to survive Father, he couldn't die here in this place and never see the world again and feel the sun on his skin and taste Winry's pie and-

He wanted Ed. Where was Ed, he needed him.

Al turned again towards Truth. They were still staring at him with their eyeless face, one arm resting on Ed's bent leg. It was so wrong, to see flesh and blood suddenly giving way to incorporeal nothing. It should not be there, it should be attached to the rest of his brother's body...

And then- there transmutation marks at the edge were changing, climbing up along Truth's surface, and something golden grew out of their head, cascading down on their shoulders and chest-

Al squeezed his eyes shut. "Stop it!"

_"Hallucinations."_

No, no, no, no- "You're doing it on purpose!" Truth was just doing it to screw with Al, Al couldn't be imagining it, they were torturing him on purpose now.

He opened his eyes a little, and there it was again. Ed, but with without eyes, without nose, just with a grin too large for a human face to make.

"Go away!" Al shouted.

Something tore in his throat. Metallic taste rose to his mouth, and Al rolled so he was belly down, propped up on his elbows, and spat. There was yellowish saliva, and red mixed with it. The liquid was there for a few seconds, and then disappeared, absorbed by the nothing.

At least the pain cleared his mind. Bright spots danced in his peripheral vision, but he couldn't see anything in front of him anymore. Not even Truth.

 

***

 

It was best to stay curled in on himself, eyes fixed on his lap.

The hallucinations were getting worse. Even like this, at times he thought he saw things moving in front of his eyes. But it was better this than the water that had cascaded to taunt his thirst, the shadows running around and confusing him, the way the two Gates seemed to distort and change shape.

He heard things now, too. Voices hard to understand no matter how much he tried to make them out, strange noises, his name being called by nobody at all.

Al kept trying to repeat himself it was not real. But it was getting harder and harder to believe in it. Maybe those things existed, maybe he was catching glimpses of things meant to stay unseen. And maybe the voices were the ghosts of other unfortunate souls who had gotten trapped here, left to die, and Al would join them soon, a bodyless voice in the white.

And then Ed would come back and find nothing but a skeleton waiting for him. Or- or maybe decomposition could not happen here, and there would just be Al body lying down for eternity.

Ed was coming. Ed would come before Al died and he would save him and take him away and he would be fine, fine, fine, he just had to wait, Ed would fix this, Al had to keep repeating that to himself, he had to believe in it, Ed was looking for him...

He resisted the urge to look for something that had moved in the corner of his eye. He had to keep his eyes fixed on his body. He had started counting the number of veins he could see on his pale thighs, and the number seemed to change every time. Weird, he didn't think veins could appear or disappear.

His name got called.

One vein on his right thigh, two veins on his right thigh, three veins-

The muscle he had tore in his clumsy attempt to stand up throbbed in pain. Al didn't know how to put his leg to make it stop.

Two veins on his left thigh, three-

His stomach cramped again. His abdomen had started to swell, something Al had seen before on starved, malnourished children. It was not round yet, but it was only a matter of time before it got obscenely bloated.

Did veins on his penis count? He could sort of see one. Maybe he should add it up to the tally.

He had not had to pee as long as he had been here. It was strange. People peed all the time. But good, otherwise he would have had to sit in it.

Had his skin always been so pale? A translucent, nearly grey white. He was pretty sure it had been different once. Not completely sure, but he thought he remembered it different. Darker. Warmer.

He would have almost preferred the metallic grey of his armor. Not that he wanted the armor back, but at least grey was not an unhealthy color when you were made of iron.

He could almost see himself darken. Go from cadaveric pale to steely grey, metal and leather covering him-

He _could_ see it. It spread on him like sickness, swelling him up, making him far too big, far too bulky.

Al whined and closed his eyes. He didn't want to go back to the armor. Anything but that. He had finally gotten his body back, he didn't want the armor, he could only handle this place if it was his body, it was falling apart but it was his body, he didn't want the armor, _he didn't want the armor, not again-_

Why wasn't Ed coming to save him? He couldn't have forgotten, Ed could not forget about him, Ed would save him, his brother would fix everything-

_Big... brother..._

_Not that voice._ Al couldn't handle that voice too. But it was too late now, it was in his head, there was no taking it out. They hadn't been able to save her, but Ed would save him, Ed would not leave Al here.

His nails dug into his palms. It hurt, and it was good, he was not the armor.

Or maybe just his hands were not the armor yet.

 

***

 

Voices again. Who cared, it was other voices, other stupid voices without body that were coming around to taunt him.

It sounded like Ed. Was Ed finally- no, he was not, it was not him. Useless getting his hopes up, it had already happened, Al had tried to go to Ed and then- And then-

He forced himself not to care.

Until there was something strange on his shoulder. It was... pressure. And strange. It didn't hurt.

Al blinked his eyes open, and looked up.

"Al?" Ed's face asked, in Ed's voice.

The face looked right. The voice sounded right. The expression was right, with that little line of worry between his eyes. Gold eyes, warm, gold eyes. Could it be he was real this time, could it...

"Ed?" Al whispered. He grimaced. His mouth hurt so much.

"And who else?" Ed smiled at him. "Come on, we're leaving."

Al frowned. They were- Was it Ed, was it really Ed-

"Al?"

"Leaving?"

"Of course, dummy. Let's- Wait, can you stand? Damn, you really look terrible. Alright, let me just..."

Ed moved. There was something under Al, something that made him roll on his back, under his back, under his knees. And he was being lifted up. His head pressed against something solid, _warm_ , so different from the not-ground he had been lying on. Something thudded inside, rhythmically, resounding in Al's head.

It was really Ed. Al could cry.

"You did it," Al said, wounds in his throat forgotten. His brother was taking him out of this place, Ed had come at last.

"Sorry it took me so long."

Al's Gate was opening. Blinding light came from the other side.

Al smiled. It pulled his lips, and made his face ache. But he didn't care. He was leaving.


End file.
